


A Little Pudge

by Processpending



Series: A Mister, A Mistress and a God [3]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Insecure Loki (Marvel), Multi, Stuffing, Weight Gain, chubby loki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:53:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22285906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Processpending/pseuds/Processpending
Summary: What do you do when your god realizes he's gotten so chubby his pants no longer fit?Sex, shopping, food and more sex of course.
Relationships: Loki/Reader, Tom Hiddleston/Loki/Reader, Tom/Reader
Series: A Mister, A Mistress and a God [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1553257
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	A Little Pudge

**Author's Note:**

> Me and summaries are in a war so I appreciate you clicking on that dismal attempt. 
> 
> The lovely AnswersOnly said they'd love to see some insecure Loki and I mean really, who doesn't want our little chubby god to be hit with a case of insecurity? So I went back to when it all started *cackles manically*

You were supposed to be leaving. Actually, you were supposed to have been left fifteen minutes ago, but Loki was mysteriously absent. He’d insisted on joining you on your outing, saying his work could wait. Since you’d started showing he’d been eager to take you out, always keeping you pressed to his side or a hand on your growing belly. 

You’d teased him, telling him that was Tom’s baby in there too and he wasn’t going all caveman. His eyebrows had done that crinkly thing that you love at the reference.  _ I want every dull creature we encounter to know that you chose me. _ You still shuddered every time you thought of his comment. 

“Awe babe, you’ve got a little pudge on your belly.” Loki visibly starts, gold sparks raining from him as he whips around. You’re grateful that his magic is so limited otherwise you’re certain you’d be facing a startled god with matching daggers instead of just a startled god. Not much better, but moved from stabbing level to screaming level.

“(Y/N).” 

“We were supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago. Thought you might have gotten into another fight with Mr. Straightener.” You tease. The last time Loki had gotten himself tangled in your straightener and was too proud to ask for help. You were not in the mood for another three months of pouting god while his hair grew back from an impromptu haircut after the last fiasco.

“I don’t think I will be accompanying you.” You frown at the glamor Loki had thrown up, as though what you’d just seen could be so easily forgotten by changing the picture.

“We agreed, Mischief, no lying.” He holds onto the glamor for a moment longer, uncertainty and fear in his eyes before he lets it fall. He looks delicious in a deep green long-sleeve t-shirt and tight skinny jeans finished off with heavy black boots, all contrasting his pale skin. It’s the jeans that are seeming to be the center of his issue, the flaps no where near closing as the pale pooch of his belly forces them apart, not to mention the cutest little rolls curling down the waistband at his hips.

He won’t look at you as you take all this in and you can see he’s fighting the urge to cover himself, fingers twitching at his side. You drop to your knees, grasping the two flaps you relish how you have to peel the jeans down his thighs, wondering how many of those fifteen minutes were spent pouring himself into them. Imganingin him jumping and tugging as he tried to get them on, the way his belly would have bounced and thighs jiggled with each tug.

His sharp intake of breath has you slowing as you glance up, he’s finally looking at you, trepidation and wonder upon his face. He wonders if this is another cruel trick, a rehash of his childhood on Asgard where the girls could be cruel. You leave the pants pooled around his feet, returning to the angry red marks on his hips where the fabric had already bitten in. 

You nuzzle into the softness of his lower belly before pressing a kiss to the nearest redmark, working in one direction you use the thumb of your other hand to gently soothe the other hip before changing sides. Together you ignore his growing excitement under your ministrations, feel him ease under your touch, his fingers coming to rest in your hair, not directing, just grounding himself, reassuring that you’re really there, really accepting him.

With one final nuzzle you roll your eyes up, meeting his and there’s a glint there that has his eyebrows furrowing moments before you blow a raspberry into his belly. He jerks away in surprise, more from the sound than the feel, though that was disconcerting as well. 

You stand, prowling towards him until his knees press against the bed, his member hard against you he watches you, wary now. “I want you Mischief.” You push him back, relishing the way his belly jiggles now when he lands, waiting for it to still before you yank your panties off from under your skirt, kicking them to the side he gets the hint and has barely slid his boxers down far enough before you’re straddling him. You settle yourself on his length, relishing the feel of so much in you almost as much as the new feel of his belly pressing into yours. 

Your mind consumed by the way his body feels under yours, something about  _ seeing  _ the changes and then riding them narrows your focus. You lose yourself in the feel of your hips widened by his thickened thighs, the way you don’t have to lean so far down anymore for your bodies to press together. You use those delicious new love handles, how you didn’t notice them before you’re not sure but you’re so grateful you’re seeing them now. 

“You’ve got a…” Your voice cracks as he bucks up into you and you momentarily forget what you were going to say, but the soft slapping of his belly against you from your thrusts reminds you. “Little pudge on your belly.” He tenses beneath you, it’s hard to miss when this much of you is pressed against this much of him, but no sooner have the words left your mouth than an orgasm wracks through you and you’re gasping his name.

Your fingers spasm against his hips, his hands using your ribs to brace as he takes the final strokes he needs before he’s spilling inside you, letting you finally collapse onto his chest. You lay there, listening to his heart race in his chest, the feel of it rising evening out before you slide off, tucking yourself into his side, you trace the slightest bit of underbelly he has, laughing softly at the shivers you elicit. 

o~O~o

You were hoping this would be The Shop. The one that Loki not only found something he liked in, but one where he felt comfortable. Your postcoital high had lasted you through the first three, your anger at how rude the salesperson was through the fourth and fifth and now you were just tired and hungry. But Loki needed clothes and you weren’t about to make him feel terrible for having gained weight. That said, you also needed to find him something, anything, that fit. 

Loki skeptically eyed the boutique, the name not lending any help to whether or not he should even bother going in. You knew it was the parent company of the store where he’d previously bought his much beloved skinny jeans and fitted shirts; you also knew it was designed for plus sized. Same fashion style, less skeletal sizes. 

You walk in and are immensely grateful that they don’t have those ridiculous signs hanging from the ceiling that denote an area as  _ Plus Size _ or worse  _ Fabulous _ (surprisingly that  _ hadn’t  _ been the store with the rudest associates). It seemed here, clothes were just clothes, divided in their sections by article then arranged in size for each piece. 

This was either going to go well, or very, very badly.

“Hello!” A woman appeared that clearly worked for the store even if she didn’t have a name-tag. Her clothes hugged her curves and she had that confidence about her that you wish you had, she enjoyed you looking, appreciating. You and Loki were both openly appreciating. “Help you find anything today?” She divided her smile between you two. 

“Think we’re just looking around. Thanks though.” You offer when it’s clear Loki isn’t going to volunteer anything and you don’t blame him, after one store had directed you instantly to the plus sized half of the store you were both a little leery of greetings.

“I’m Skye, just give a shout if you need anything.” She disappeared back the way she’d come, leaving you to it. You flipped through the racks, finding several things you thought Loki would like and even finding his size...or what you thought his size might be now. You carefully place them back, not wanting to add to the disaster that was almost today. 

Loki ends up with an armful of clothes and disappears to the dressing room, leaving you waiting. 

“What do you-oh, I’m sorry-I thought you were…” You realize Loki’s stepped out of the fitting room when you hear his voice, feeling bad for having wandered off you circle back just in time to catch the look on his face.

“No worries. Your ass looks great in those by the way.” There’s what can only be described as a pixie standing before Loki, like Tinkerbell had fallen off the page and into the store. She’s paused in emptying the Changed Mind? rack, turned to face Loki full on, she nods admiringly.

“Marci!” Skye’s scold rings through the small store, the exasperation clear that this isn’t the first time she’s had to get on her for such a thing.

“What? His ass  _ does _ look great. And really, everyone should be told when it does.” You try to smother your giggles but are helpless to as Loki’s cheeks flush pink at her comment and appraising eye. “Doesn’t it?” Marci turns to you at the sound of your laugh, drawing you in.

“She’s right.” Loki all but darts back into the dressing room. “Thank you.” You whisper to Marci who just nods, looking a little confused. You brush thoughts of explaining aside. You’d finally found The Shop.

o~O~o

“I think this calls for a celebratory lunch.” You announce once you’re back on the sidewalk, Loki nearly tipping over with bags. Skye, who you found out was the manager, had apologized again for Marci’s behavior but you were quick to reassure her you didn’t mind, that it was fantastic. 

“Celebratory? I’m not really...” Loki looks skeptical and you fear he’s going to say he’s not really hungry and that this morning will have him doing something crazy like dieting.

“Yes. Celebratory, we found the most fantastic shop and  _ we’re  _ hungry. We need food.” You place your hands on your small belly, planning to guilt him into food if you have to. That softens him and he’s all too happy to fill your belly.

You head to the Mexican restaurant you’d been going to for years, they knew the three of you well there and didn’t seem to mind that you shared each other, or they didn’t fully understand your relationship, it really didn’t matter. You were welcome there, the food was delicious and the owner and her family were the sweetest.

Their daughter was working when you walked in, chatting and catching you up as she walked you back to your usual corner booth even though it was only the two of you. 

“We’re having a cheer-up day. Shopping and good food.” You smile at Adrianna, the daughter was a little younger than you but had always been kind and knew some of the best places to shop. You tell her about the boutique you found and she suggests a few more like it that you note in your phone. 

Nina, the owner and mother to Adrianna took celebrations very seriously as in addition to your orders, two giant bowls of fried ice cream are brought to your table just as Loki is finishing off your plate. You’d asked about the latest book he was reading and that was enough of a distraction that he cleaned his plate and easily started on yours when you slid it over.

You can see the debate in Loki’s eyes, one hand resting on what you know must be an already full stomach.

“There’s  _ always _ room for ice cream.” You declare, even though you don’t entirely believe it yourself. You dig in, the delicious taste overwhelming the full feeling and you smile around your spoon as Loki joins you. Talk picks up again and it’s easy enough to exchange Loki’s empty bowl for your nibbled-at one.

“Oof.” Loki slumps back, revealing his rounded belly, frowning he pokes it, eliciting a whimper. You slide around the back of the curved booth and over to his side, rubbing the abused spot. You try to catch Loki’s eye, noting the dismay.

“Looks like everything was to your liking.” Adrianna didn’t so much as blink at the fact that you were petting Loki’s belly. It was easy enough to get the check and thank Nina for the delicious meal, Loki sullen beside you. 

The car is filled with a silence you’re unsure how to break. You cast glances at Loki, hating how miserable he looks. You’re so lost in thoughts of how you can cheer him up you miss avoiding the pothole, the car jolting at the obstacle. All concern for the car is shoved aside by the groan from Loki, a glance sees him cradling his belly, the mass protesting the abrupt shift. 

“Oh, babe.” You murmur, reaching over you rub his belly, surprised and pleased at how firm it is. Loki bucks slightly into your touch, the flush of his cheeks telling you it wasn’t just your imagination.

You’re wet by the time you get home, the need to know what this stuffed god feels like beneath you consuming your thoughts. You swear his belly is bigger, bloating as it attempts to digest the sheer amount of food he’d consumed. You contain yourself until you’re inside, then you’re pinning him to the wall, muffling his surprise with your mouth. You groan at the feel of his taut belly pressing against you, forcing you back, fingers fumbling to undo his pants, tighter after the meal.

“(Y/N)?” The sound of your name has you looking up, confused and wary green eyes watching you.

“Please,” You press a hungry kiss to his lips, “Need you.” That’s all the warning he gets before the hands that had been roaming under his shirt are moved around his neck, you jumping up and wrapping your legs around his waist. You marvel at the feel of his overfilled belly demanding the space between you, how your hips are forced wider in order to wrap around his plump sides.

That’s all the prompting Loki needs as you soon find yourself laid across the bed, the trip a blur of kisses and pleas. You pull him back when he starts to straighten, fingers returning to the task of unbuttoning his pants, enjoying the sight of pale rolls spilling over the sides. 

It doesn’t take much to convince him onto the bed and soon you’re straddling him, admiring the scene before you: a god given to gluttony. Where ribs could once be counted is now a considerable stomach, so packed with food there’s no give. Fingers trace the angry red marks, Loki hissing at the touch.

“I’m not....I don’t want-” You can see the humiliation in his eyes, the belief that this is a pity fuck.

“I want you. I  _ need _ you.” Your voice is husky with desire.

“Even though I’m...pudgy?” The word is soft, shameful. You grab his ample hips, using them to keep him in place as you slide yourself down onto his length, your head falling back as a moan tears itself from your throat at the delicious sensation of being stretched and filled.

“I want you as you were, as you are, and as you will be.” He looks skeptical, fighting his body’s response to you. “Fuck, Mischief, you put on more pudge and I’ll want you then too.” As though those were the magic words he surges up, his fingers digging into your hips as he holds you in place, thrusting up into you. It doesn’t last, he drops back to the bed and your hands find his belly, pressing and rubbing in equal turns as the painful pleasure assaults him.

Your hands are filled with his hips as you roll yours, relishing the feel of him inside you, the feel of his stomach, immovable when you rock forward. He tilts his head down to look at you and you notice the start of a double chin, the smallest bit of flesh that you want nothing more than to nibble on. So you lean forward to do just that and his stomach is there, pressed against yours, already rounding with his and Tom’s babes. Your orgasm rushes through you, coming on so fast and dragging on until your toes curl and you’re gasping his name in harsh pants, bringing him to completion, filling you with more of his seed.

He eases you down onto your side, tucking you against him, he lazily strokes your shoulder, your hand drifting to his belly. He doesn’t shy away and you sleepily rub the swell, relishing this orgasm in its full before you mount for round three. And if Tom happens to come home and find you during round three? Well, there’s more god to go around now, isn’t there.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm actually working on (have some written and an entire page of outline) a follow-up to this. Insecure Loki demands more than one fic and of course we need to see how Tom would handle his god not only getting chubbier but being chubby and getting a swift kick in the confidence. 
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and thoughts, comments, kudos, random emoji's (the hieroglyphics of this century) are welcomed and appreciated!


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